Carro Armato
by jessseri
Summary: At the very least, Charlie is at war with his mind.  At the very most, he's at war with Germany.  AUish Chustin  and a bit of side Klaine  for CP Coulter's Dalton.
1. Chapter 1

**I own neither the characters from Glee nor the characters from CP Coulter's Dalton.**

Sometimes Charlie looks at people and sees something else - the same someone, but from some other place and time. Which sounds crazy, Charlie knows, but he thinks he's just going to have to get used to that. Because he's been seeing people all wrong for months now.

The twins carrying rifles with long wooden stocks instead of bright plastic nerf guns. Wes and David with light brown vests tied about them that look bulky and homemade. Drew and Satoru are especially hard to ignore and Charlie always has to stare for a few minutes to decide if the dirt on their faces is real. And then Charlie sees Justin with a rough beret hanging balanced and perfect on the side of his head and he wonders how many people have caught him staring.

It starts on his family vacation to Algeria, the summer before his senior year. One trip to see the Casbah and that marketplace people are always singing about and Charlie's certain the sand must have gotten stuck in his head because he can't remember the last time his dreams weren't clouded in brown dust.

When it's just the dreams, Charlie thinks about changing his diet or watching fewer war movies or maybe getting his parents to excuse him from the rest of his history classes. But dreams of talking to his best friends sitting outside in the desert heat - weighed down by things he can feel but can't see – seem impressively normal when he goes back to school.

The first time it happens, he's doing his rounds greeting everyone for the new school year and sees Blaine digging in his armoire for something. And suddenly he's not in a dorm room - not inside - not in Ohio.

_The lower half of a man sticks out of the side of the camouflaged machine in front of Charlie. He has to squint to see him in the bright sunlight that seems to come from every direction as it reflects off of the fine sand. It's hot, but the knowledge seems like background noise to the rest of the picture. _

_With a cough, the rest of the man emerges from inside the tank and turns to face him._

"_Chain's too weak for the crap fan. Third time I've replaced it this month. Shit Brit tanks using a fucking engine from the Great War," spits the short brunette boy. _

_When Charlie had first met Blaine, he had brought a new sense of naivety to being polite and Charlie never would've guessed the quiet youth to be the hands-on mechanic that he now knows him to be. And the language? Well, the other boys in the unit improved Blaine's vocabulary within weeks._

_But something about the way Blaine says "How have you been?" sounds more like the sweet kid from Ohio than the brash mechanic. Maybe it's because "How have you been?" is followed by "How was your vacation?"_

"_Vacation?" Charlie asks._

"Yea, your summer vacation?"

And Blaine's back in his dorm room, holding a belt from the back of his closet instead of a chain from the engine of a Sherman tank.

"Oh, yea," Charlie stumbles over the words. "It was fine. How was yours?

And that's only the beginning.

_Charlie drives the tank, Blaine rides beside him, and two other guys sit up behind them in the turret. Ethan and Evan. Brothers – identical twins. The tank's supposed to have more open space, but the desert changes that quickly and they wind up with two extra jerrycans of water and a bit less wiggle room._

_Wes and Satoru, two other men in their unit, catch a lot of shit from other troops because of the war in the Pacific, and Charlie won't stand for it. Wes isn't even Japanese, and, sure, Satoru is one of the few Japanese Americans serving in a diverse formation, but Charlie can't tell if "nisei" is derogatory or not and he probably starts more fights than he ends over it._

"_Stop being an ass; we're on the same side you idiot," is his attempt at peacekeeping. So maybe Charlie shouldn't be a mediator._

"_What are you, his mother? Besides, how am I supposed to know he's not a Jap when he's not in uniform?" Charlie's not sure if the man he's speaking to intends to sound so ridiculous._

"_We're in _North Africa._" Charlie rolls his eyes and the offender in question takes this as an opportunity to turn the fight physical. He's in Charlie's personal space before someone yells._

"_Calm down! We go to the same school!" _

_School? What?_

"We're supposed to be talking smack to the kids from _other_ schools," Bailey insists, using his arm to separate the young Stuart from Charlie's face and Charlie wonders whether the boy would've hit him if Bailey hadn't.

Charlie's only vaguely aware of the boys wandering away when a hand falls on his shoulder and he turns to see Justin in a thick wool uniform. As Charlie gazes over the light brown beret, the matching tie that's neatly tucked under an unlined bomber jacket, and the perfectly pressed pants, he thinks it's strange because he hasn't seen Justin out of his Mess Dress since he first met him at Tafraoui.

Charlie has to remind himself that he met Justin at school in Ohio.

"You okay, mate?" the Brit asks and Charlie has to blink four times before Justin's back in his Dalton uniform.

"Uh, yea, just another house fight. But I'm fine." He doesn't even try to sound convincing.

"I couldn't help but notice that North Africa looks a lot like the outside of St. Patrick's."

"What?"

"You said we were in North Africa. I mean, you were mumbling and I don't think anyone else heard you…" Justin trails off and is staring at Charlie like he's an optical illusion that you'll only see if you look just right. And then, because he's wondering if it's the right question to ask, he does just that. "What's in North Africa?"

"I…North Africans?" Charlie tries to joke.

Justin lets out one quiet laugh and waits for Charlie to say more.

"I don't know. I…have no idea why I said that," Charlie mutters. And if Justin notices that he spends the game staring into space, he has the decency not to question it.

For a while, it's the last time he gets caught. Most of the time the visions are simple. People are just wearing the wrong clothing or carrying the wrong things. Charlie can ignore that entirely. But he's having trouble ignoring the sensation that the visions and dreams are right and that his "real world" is wrong.

And as soon as Charlie thinks he's free of the worst, the visions launch their final halting attack.

"I'm hit!" He can only see the orange foam darts that land in the hallway, but he can tell that the voice is David's.

_Charlie is down in the front of the tank, so his view is pretty terrible, but he can see that there's nothing in front of them. They weren't even in combat until they heard the roar above of planes above them. The Luftwaffe._

_The bombs fall from the sky, but it's the echoes of a fired M3 that ring in his head. A shot from one of their tanks. Charlie looks to Blaine and shouts, "Who the fuck is shooting at the planes?"_

_He tries to poke his head out for a better view, ignoring the risk that he'll be hit by the turret. The smoke is coming from the tank to their immediate left. Charlie thinks to who is in the Sherman beside them - Josh drives next to Dwight, his machine gunner, and David sits at turret with Wes, his gunner. _

_He sits back down pulling his hatch closed. "It's David."_

_Blaine nods in acknowledgement but keeps his hands and attention firmly on his A4. Charlie rolls his eyes and wonders whether Blaine's going to try his machine gun on the German planes that are too high above. Charlie shifts into action, knowing there's not much they can do besides get out of the line of fire._

"_Mad Hatter's hurt," Charlie hears from behind him – from one of the twins._

"_What? But –"_

_His yell comes crashing down around him as shrieking metal does the same. The shell crashes with a loud thud instead of a bang and Charlie feels it more than he hears it. He's never tried to imagine the force it takes to disturb a 67,000 pound tank before, and he'll later joke that now he never has to. He feels the tank shake in every bone._

_Nothing has exploded; this much Charlie is sure of. He struggles to take a breath and has to blink slowly to get his bearings. His arm feels like it's on fire, which Charlie supposes is probably a comparison in bad taste since there's a very good chance that his tank might actually catch on fire soon._

_It isn't until he blinks twice more that his senses settle. He's pinned to the side of his compartment by the armor of the tank itself and he can hear Blaine screaming his name. It's probably a bad sign that he can't _see_ Blaine._

"_Fuck," he tries to yell. It's closer to a wince._

_If the only place they're hit is the front, Charlie thinks that it's unlikely he'll have to worry about explosions or fire. But Charlie's pretty certain that Blaine has a better view of the greater picture – what with Charlie's excellent close-up view of the metal that used to sit feet in front of him – and Blaine's yelling seems pretty insistent. He should get out of here._

_Trying to dislodge his arm from the crushed metal is more painful than Charlie thinks he can articulate. It doesn't budge the first time. The second time he manages to get his arm free from the twisted armor, but the armor claims some of his skin in exchange. His sleeve is still caught in some of the metal and Charlie thinks it's a testament to his stoic temperament that he tears the sleeve off without a single complaint._

_Blaine will later attest that Charlie is blatantly lying to himself about his temperament. His impressions of Charlie's foul protests of pain at this moment become famous throughout the brigade._

_With his arm free, Charlie looks up to his to see his hatch open and Blaine's face appear. He shifts uncomfortably toward it and Blaine moves to let him out. If anyone expects grace from the injured driver, they don't see it when he climbs out of the tank and tumbles clumsily down it, bypassing the ladder altogether._

_He passes out before anyone can make a comment._


	2. Chapter 2

**Only the story is mine – the rest belongs to FOX and CP Coulter.**

_Erwin Rommel has made a fool of the Allied Forces too often for Charlie to forget that Germany is the enemy. So when they're clearing a town and Blaine finds a young German man sitting on the floor in the corner of an abandoned home, Charlie is confused. Everyone is confused. The boy is fragile, scared and – as far as anyone can tell – hasn't served a day in his life. He insists that he's from Tunisia, but there's no mistaking the whistles and flats of his German accent._

_Justin calls the boy out, and soon he's hysterically ranting about how he's lived abroad most of his life and, _really_, no one told him he was expected to go back and enlist. How, _he promises_, he didn't mean to dodge the draft. Charlie thinks it's a funny phrase for him to use._

"_You think he's telling the truth?" Charlie asks and looks at Justin, now outside the room where the boy remains sitting nervously._

"_I'm not a brilliant judge of character," Justin shrugs, "but I don't think he's Afrika Korps. Lying? Maybe. But he's living in the desert and he looks like he hasn't been outside in a year. He's sure as hell not a tank man."_

"_Can we call him the Arctic Fox?" the twins ask, sneaking into the conversation and earning a strange look from the British lieutenant._

"_How lucky that you have live-in comedians with you," Justin smirks at Charlie, and despite his urge to roll his eyes, Charlie smiles back._

_The mood settles and Charlie and Justin watch the German boy hesitantly._

"_Do we just leave him here?" Charlie whispers._

"_Technically I think I should report him to Murdoch." Charlie can tell that it isn't Justin's answer. "But we can't just leave him here. There's nothing left."_

_The boy is roughly their age, and though they technically treat him as a prisoner, no one really has the heart to be harsh to him. He's timid at first and Blaine's German is laughable at best, but somehow they develop a friendship that Charlie is only a mildly concerned about._

_He follows Blaine around like a puppy, and if Charlie is mildly concerned, the twins are mildly amused. They alternate between calling him the "Arctic Fox" and the "Dessert Puppy." Justin alternates between laughing and staring at the boy contemplatively. _

_Charlie, Justin and the twins sit on the surface of one tank and watch the boy and Blaine interact as Blaine fixes one of the other tanks._

"_You think maybe he's Jewish? Or a gypsy?" Justin asks abruptly._

"_What? Like he ran away to Tunisia to avoid one of those camps? That's an awful long journey."_

"_Didn't they get all those scientists to America?" Ethan responds._

"_S'bit further than here," Evan agrees._

_The possibility is enough of an answer to the young men for now and they say nothing else until the boy pushes Blaine aside lightly and reaches at the engine of the tank Blaine had been working on._

"_He's a mechanic?" Charlie sits up straight and looks alarmed. _

_The boy reaches blindly for the wrench sitting nearby without taking his head out and stays this way for a few minutes. When he finally comes out, he sets the wrench in Blaine's hands and gives him a satisfied smile. Blaine looks just as surprised as they do when he approaches the men on the tank._

_When he's within hearing distance, Charlie gestures toward the machine and asks, "Do you think we need to worry about him…sabotaging us?"_

_Blaine looks mildly offended. "He wouldn't do that."_

_Charlie hums an affirmative and looks to Justin to gauge his reaction._

"_He certainly doesn't seem like the type."_

_It's the third time they refer to the boy without using his name and as Charlie falls to sleep beneath his tent later that night, he suddenly feels like he can't even remember it._

"_Chaz, seriously, you need to wake up," an angry voice yells somewhere in the distance. But then the voice softens. "Seriously, they won't give me anymore leave, and I can't just leave you here. What if I never know what happens?"_

And suddenly the voice is real. "Chaz, seriously, you need to wake up. I can't keep skipping French to get here before your parents come after work."

The voice is Justin's. Charlie is sure of it. And he's in a hospital. How did that happen? Charlie briefly figures that Justin could tell him if only he could manage to ask. Instead he tries to open his eyes.

"Charlie!" Justin's voice is much closer, and as he manages to stir, Charlie realizes how close. Justin is at his bed side looking like a puppy.

"-ustin," he croaks, and if the J noise is just a little too hard for him to make right now, Charlie figures that's to be expected. He did just – well, okay he forgets why he's been hospitalized, but he's here nonetheless and he'll just have to work on that excuse later.

"Nurse!" Justin calls loudly toward the door, moving only his eyes away from Charlie. Charlie wishes he hadn't called for a nurse because he thinks she won't know as well as Justin what's happened to him.

It turns out the nurse is a him, but _he_ probably won't tell Charlie what happened either, so Charlie alternately stares at his legs and Justin while answering the nurse's questions and, eventually, the doctor's questions.

Justin stares briefly at Charlie before either speaks. "The twins are gonna be glad to hear you're awake; they can take the manslaughter lawyer off retainer and everything."

Charlie laughs but still manages to sound as groggy as he feels. "What happened?"

Justin furrows his brow. "I thought you told the doctor you remembered? Falling down the stairs?"

"I do – bits and pieces. But I'm guessing most of the bits and pieces don't belong," he mumbles.

"I don't know what that means," Justin continues to frown. "Do you want me to call the doctor back in?"

"No," Charlie answers quickly. "It's just… I had a lot of dreams, and it's hard to…distinguish."

Justin considers it. "What sort of dreams?"

Charlie sighs deeply and speaks slowly. "Dreams…of you. And the twins. And the desert. And tanks."

"Tanks? The desert? Those are probably the fragments that don't belong, Charlie." It sounds more patronizing than he meant it to, but he doesn't take it back. It's hard to understand what his best friend is talking about and he can't help but get angry. But he softens his voice when he sees Charlie's face. "You should get some sleep, Chaz. I'm sure things'll be clearer when you're not so groggy."

Charlie can't deny that he's groggy, but he doesn't think Justin will believe him when he says it has nothing to do with sleep. He doesn't consent and Justin doesn't stay to give him the chance.

* * *

><p>Charlie hobbles toward Windsor without any crutches, which is difficult enough to do without falling over <em>before<em> he sees Logan leaving the house. If he wasn't so surprised, he'd be pretty impressed with himself. As it happens, he's stuck on the surprised part, so he limps into the foyer and seeks an explanation.

"Whoa, whoa! What's Logan doing coming from - " The scene before him only manages to confuse him more. "Why is Justin – What's with the _air_?"

The blank stares he receives in exchange are more than a little disconcerting, so he continues. "…what? Your prefect comes back and I don't even get a hello?"

Then he looks up to the upstairs landing and Charlie _knows_ that he's progressed to full out delusions, because the boy standing in front of him has the same face as the delicate German soldier who was so lost. And suddenly he remembers that the young prisoner in his dream did have a name and it was Kurt.

Or is he merging his "reality" and his dreams now? Charlie feels a headache coming on and decides not to consider it any further.

"Hey Charlie," he hears Blaine say with what sounds like too relieved a sigh. "Welcome back. They're all yours."


	3. Chapter 3

**I do not own Glee/CP Coulter's characters, just the story.**

It's night-time and Charlie is staring up at the stars while Justin talks about his French assignment. They're lying in the grass behind the sports center – no one ever strays too far from the dorms at that time of night and it gives the prefects privacy they almost never have. Charlie thinks maybe he should be happier about the isolation than he is.

They haven't had the opportunity to hang out like this since Charlie's been back. The fair gave Charlie something to occupy his thoughts –and his time - and now that it's over, Charlie is afraid he won't be able to convince Justin that he's okay. Justin always makes him think of his dreams and Justin always reads Charlie like a book.

"What are you thinking?" Justin leans over to look at his best friend.

"Huh?"

"You're not listening to me," Justin laughs. "So what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking…" Charlie pauses like he's waiting to know the answer himself. He continues without looking at Justin, "…that I remember kissing you beneath these stars. We were back at Beja, but it was just after Medjez el Bab, so we were all on edge. We couldn't sleep. It was freezing like it always was at night, but we were sitting outside your tent anyway."

Justin wants to stay focused on the beginning of that rant, but it's all so unnerving. "Charlie… none of that happened."

Now Charlie turns to look at Justin. He studies his face. "Maybe if I kiss you now, it'll take me back to then."

"Charlie what-"

Charlie leans forward to do as he promised and his lips meet Justin's softly. Justin doesn't get the chance to finish his thought and – despite his best efforts – Charlie doesn't get his wish of travelling back to Tunisia. It makes him angrier than it should. Until Charlie pulls away and speaks, Justin is too preoccupied with the sensation on his lips to notice.

"All the times I couldn't stop it and now that I want to go back, I'm stuck here?"

"I'm really tempted to go back to the part where you're kissing me, but seriously Chaz, I can't ignore the fact that you sound mental! Where are you trying to go back to? That memory that never happened?"

"Tunisia. It's where I'm supposed-"

"Tunisia like North Africa?"

"Yea, Justin, that's where Tunisia is."

"North Africa like that time at the football game? Charlie, what's going on?" Justin's not sure if consistency to his best friend's delusions is something to be thankful for.

Charlie frowns. "Justin, I'm supposed to be back then. In the Second World War. North Africa."

It doesn't seem to matter to Justin that he feels lost in this conversation and he responds immediately. "You're supposed to be here, Chaz. _With me._"

"I'm with you _there_, Justin." Charlie says it desperately and Justin can't help but stare. "You need me there more than you need me here. I've got to get back before-"

"Before what, Chaz?"

"Before they attack. Before someone gets hurt and I'm not there to stop it. Or – fuck! – before anything! - before they surrender and we all ship off and go home and I never see any of you again."

"Any of us. The people you're here with now? The people you _see_ every day?"

"I told you, Justin," Charlie practically growls. "I'm with you _there_ and you need me more there. What am I doing here? Interrupting love triangles? Dodging foam darts? You could be dying! You could be _dead_! Justin, I need to be there."

Justin can't see anything but genuine concern in Charlie's eyes. He doesn't think his best friend is crazy, but Charlie's certainly not doing anything to help keep Justin set in that belief.

Playing along with your friend's hallucinations has got to be a terrible idea, but for now it's all Justin has. "World War 2. North Africa. Are you at El Alamein?"

Charlie can't respond at first; he's too surprised that Justin is trying to believe him.

"No, you wouldn't be. You're American, right?" Justin smirks as he says it. "So this is after Torch? I don't – I don't remember enough of this part of history. We never study it here."

Charlie considers this. Justin is right – there's not even a section on the North African Campaign in his American history book. He wants to hold the knowledge up like it's proof that he must belong there.

"Wait," Justin gestures like he's realized something important. "What date is it? We were out of Africa in early 1943. Maybe it's almost over-"

"With my questionable sanity, you think I remember _the date_?"

"Okay, yea, bad idea. What about battles? Or cities? Where do you last remember being?"

He stands up, presumably to go find a computer, but Charlie stays on the ground. "I don't know; they're all out of order."

Justin looks down at Charlie, refusing to give up his mission. "Okay, but you said some cities. You said-" he stops suddenly, but continues hesitantly and quietly, "You said we kissed under the stars at…"

"Beja," Charlie says thoughtfully. "Back at Beja."

Justin is excited by this revelation and Charlie can't help but be annoyed.

"Why does it matter where or when it is, Justin?" he frowns. "Figuring out where in the war I am won't help me go back there. Wherever I am, whatever I'm _missing_, I'm missing it and knowing won't help."

Charlie has to reassure himself that he meant it to be harsh because Justin looks wounded. "I just thought…Wouldn't it help to know?"

"It would help," Charlie insists callously, "to know whether I'm _supposed_ to be here or there."

With an appraisal, Justin seems to concede. "Okay, so what's easier to remember? Your childhood here or your childhood there?"

For a moment Charlie doesn't think he can remember either. But he can. He can remember swinging on a swing set with his cousin. Sometimes the set is shiny chrome and other times it's wooden, but both times his black Chuck Taylors scrape the dirt and kick up loose rocks. Sometimes his mom reads him bedtime stories from a big brown book and sometimes he swears she must be making them up, but her hair always curls tightly to her head.

He only begins to feel overwhelmed when he realizes that these are the first _old_ memories that aren't clouded in dust. They're just as colorful as the _new_ ones. He wonders which ones are made up and how he ever got such a goddamned impressive imagination.

"I – I can see both," Charlie stutters eventually.

"Are you…are you older?"

Charlie's not sure what kind of path Justin's mind is on, because his questions hardly seem connected. Maybe they aren't supposed to be. Maybe Justin's just saying things as they come to him.

"Am I older?"

"You're in the army. Are you older than you are here?"

Charlie's memories are all visions and sounds and feelings. He can't remember seeing or hearing or feeling his age.

"I don't know."

"What about me?"

There goes Justin's trail again.

"Are you older?"

Justin laughs. "No. Sure. Tell me anything about me."

"I don't know how old you are," Charlie smiles faintly. "I don't think…I don't think I'd known you for long, but you're always there. In every flash of memory. You're an officer. A lieutenant."

Justin looks impressed at his other self. "And you?"

"Nah," Charlie looks down and Justin can't figure out why he looks so embarrassed. "Technician Fourth Grade."

"What's that?"

"Like a Sergeant. Enlisted."

"What part of the army were you in?"

"1st Armored," Charlie says quietly, deciding Justin wouldn't know what to do with more detail.

"Armored. Like tanks?"

"Yea. I drove one." There's a long pause before he corrects himself. "I drive one."

"And this kissing me. Is that a regular thing?"

Charlie looks over at Justin to see his friend smiling sheepishly. "Not really, no," he frowns. "It's too hard to get the opportunity. Someone's always watching. But sometimes it just happens."

Charlie's grin is sweet and genuine, and Justin thinks it's a damn shame any version of him has something as great as Charlie but has to hide it.

"What if it became a regular thing here?"

Despite being the one to initiate their earlier kiss, Charlie blushes foolishly at the suggestion. "I – I guess I better enjoy it while I have the chance?"

Justin laughs and crouches down to press his lips to Charlie's. It's longer than their last kiss, and Justin ends up lying on top of his best friend before it ends. With a pleased sigh, he rolls to Charlie's side and looks up at the stars.

"They're nice," he chuckles. "Don't you think?"

"What, the stars?"

"Yea. The stars we kiss under," he whispers, borrowing Charlie's earlier phrase.

Charlie smiles and an hour later, the boys are napping under their stars.


	4. Epilogue

**The story is mine, the characters are not. They belong to FOX and CP Coulter.**

_Charlie is alone when he wakes up. No one sits at his bedside. He isn't in a hospital or even on a bed. He's sleeping on the ground under a tarp hung off of the tank and he can hear shots in the distance. He looks down at his arm and judges the injury to be four or five months old. _

_Blaine is sitting with the twins on top of the tank and they nod to him as he walks toward them._

"_Morning sunshine," Evan says as Ethan winks. Charlie locates the sun. It isn't morning._

"_Howard came around about ten ago, says we're off in twenty," Blaine informs Charlie. "We were gonna wake you, but I figured you could nap for a bit longer."_

_Blaine shrugs and Charlie stares blankly. He doesn't remember having to adjust to the "old" memories before. He doesn't even remember _knowing_ about both sets of realities in these memories. Slowly, he remembers where he is. Ferryville. They've been in and out of combat for days, and troops are getting antsy about the Germans surrendering soon._

_Charlie knows better to hope it'll happen, but for once he thinks the rumors might be true. He pulls down the tent and prepares to move out._

_A day passes and Charlie realizes he hasn't switched back and forth at all. None of his "old" memories last this long._

_Two more days pass and Charlie starts to forget the name of his prep school and the sight of boys constantly pulling out little phones._

_One more day and these moments now are the only things that are real. _His memories are real. His fellow soldiers are real. The German surrender is finally real.

Charlie thinks that maybe this was just the kind of victory that has to feel bittersweet. Maybe the surrender of the Axis troops in North Africa will mean a lot to the grand scheme of the war – Charlie doesn't think so – but it certainly won't mean a lot to his division. Charlie isn't going home. Charlie is going to Italy. The twins are going to Italy. Wes is going to Italy. Blaine is going to Italy.

Justin isn't going to Italy. Kurt isn't going to Italy. Maybe this is why Charlie feels compelled to sit by Blaine in silence. Lots of men here have made best friends of strangers, and lots of men have lost these friends to battle. But Justin and Kurt aren't dead – the qualification _yet_ lingers in Charlie's mind a little too loudly – and that still doesn't change the fact that Charlie and Blaine will probably never see them again.

Charlie doesn't say a word to Blaine and they don't share a silent conversation either. But he guesses Blaine is thinking the same thing and Charlie knows it doesn't matter either way.

Blaine has said goodbye to Kurt a few times already and it's only through their fortune – misfortune by most standards, probably – that they've come back to places they've left. Charlie wonders if it gets easier to say goodbyes or harder. He guesses from the look in Blaine's eyes that it gets harder, so he decides not to ask for Justin's address. It's a decision, and Charlie thinks those are the only gifts you can give yourself. He'll only get one goodbye with Justin. Then he won't have to compare them.

But Charlie never gets any goodbyes with Justin. By the time word spreads that everyone is being sent to Italy, Justin is already gone. No one feels the need to tell obnoxious enlisted American anything about where he went, but Charlie guesses he's been promoted out of the field.

The stars that night are as they always were, but Charlie knows for certain that they aren't the same stars he saw in Beja or Ohio.

For years, Charlie thinks _these aren't our stars._ He forgets Ohio and he forgets prep school, but he remembers Justin and he remembers kissing him under the Beja night sky.

He thinks of taking a vacation to London. He thinks about finding Blaine's address and asking if he kept in touch with anyone. With the twins, or with Kurt, or… He thinks about writing Justin letters even if he doesn't have an address to send them to.

In the end, he sends Blaine a letter that doesn't even mention anyone outside of Blaine's family. He gets a letter back written in that soft polite voice that Charlie didn't even remember Blaine having. Blaine doesn't mention anyone either except for a small postscript.

_I gave him your address_.

For a week it haunts Charlie, and he looks up at the stars and knows that they're his again. And then the postscript rings in his ears like a doorbell. Like _his_ doorbell.

Charlie knows before he answers the door and he can't help but realize that he's gotten used to _hoping_ again.

"Hi." Charlie wonders why he can't think of anything else to say to the British man standing in front of him. He doesn't look much older and Charlie thinks that maybe it's hard to look old as a civilian when someone's seen you at war.

"We never said goodbye," Justin offers. It's a funny introduction.

"You came here to say goodbye?" Charlie doesn't ask Justin inside.

"I – " Charlie watches Justin's eyes and wonders if the flash that passes over them is a gift. "I was kind of hoping if I came here, I would never have to say goodbye."

It's no testament to Charlie's supposedly stoic temperament, but instead to his friendship lived only in a year, that the two men smirked at each other simultaneously. Charlie thinks it's a decision he could get used to.


End file.
